


You Stole My Heart

by Ishipit246



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Crying, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26478295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishipit246/pseuds/Ishipit246
Summary: Virgil becomes roommates with Roman. But in a foreign country, with misunderstandings, parties and essays, is there ever a chance of them becoming more?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	You Stole My Heart

Virgil’s fist hovered over the door. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. University was a fun place. University was where he could make friends. University was where he could get his music degree. University was where he could achieve his goals. Everything was going to be great. 

But what if it didn’t? His palm was moist with sweat as he clutched the plastic handle of his black suitcase, and he rubbed it against his purple hoodie, fiddling with the hem. Patting himself down and dusting the lint off his shirt, he let out a sigh. This was going to be okay. 

His knuckles knocked the door, a little softly, before he hit it once more, the sound much louder. No response. He must be early. The door let out a soft creak when he pushed it open. 

There was a boy around his age sitting at the desk in the corner of the room. His brown hair was tousled, as if he were the type of person to constantly run his hand through it. Bright red headphones covered his ears and his slender brown fingers tapped the highlighter at the side of the thick book rhythmically. 

The room itself was pretty spacious for a university dormitory, with two single beds side by side, a bedside table in between them. The boy looked up, eyes trailing up and down Virgil. They were a deep green, one that seemed to sparkle with confidence and a haughtiness that immediately elicited distaste in Virgil. 

"Oh, you must be my roommate." The boy stood up, several centimeters taller than Virgil. He wore dark blue jeans and a red letterman jacket, a yellow 'R' stitched on. A muscular, broad shouldered guy, he looked like every jock from a cliche American highschool movie. "My name is Roman. Roman Diaz Santos. You?"

"Virgil. Virgil Teo." Was his curt response, as he walked over to the empty bed and plopped his suitcase at the foot of the bed. 

"Ah, Virgil." Roman stifled a laugh.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. It just, it just sounds a lot like-" He choked once more. "Virgin."

Virgil rolled his eyes. How original. "Who are you to talk? Your name's what people call the citizens of fucking Rome." 

Roman made a frustrated noise. "Whatever, I need to finish reading this chapter anyway."

"And I need to unpack."

They looked at each other. "Good."

"Good."

***

Virgil didn't like Roman. He was haughty and overconfident and obnoxious and loud. Sadly, he was also his roommate. 

Roman had been out since 5p.m. He had left quietly, but Virgil heard the door shut that Friday evening. Virgil himself didn't usually go out. He wasn't from the US and the combination of not knowing his way around the bustling New York City and his Singaporean accent that seemed to stick out more than ever made him hesitant to go out. Sure he had cut back on the "lah"s and "wah lao eh"s in an almost desperate attempt to fit in, but his sing-song accent was still evident every time he talked. And he _hated_ it. 

He popped a cup of cup noodles into the communal microwave, and stared at the cup spiralling round and round the microwave. Round and round it went, the amber glow illuminating the plastic, tacky box almost sadly. 

Virgil sighed. He never minded being alone. Honestly speaking, Roman was the closest thing Virgil had to a friend here. Then again, when he was back at home, he was a social outcast too. Being a closeted gay who spent his time listening to emo bands, never enjoyed sports and painfully average in academics, he was never a popular guy. 

He thought things would be different in the shiny US, with how glorified the entire country was in the media. Shaking his head, he scoffed. With all of Singapore's homophobia, at least they didn't have guns. Here, everything was much much scarier. Besides, he missed the chicken rice and nasi lemak he could buy back at home. All that was terribly overpriced and not very tasty over here. 

The beeps from the microwave snapped him out of his thoughts. Gingerly getting out the piping hot cup, he walked back to his room. Time for some Youtube and noodles. Maybe Roman was back. Not that he particularly wanted him to be there. Then again, they weren't _enemies._

The guy was annoying, to say the least. Constantly belting out song after song, it's like he was actually in a musical. Everytime he said something that vaguely resembled a lyric, he immediately launched into the song. Still, his songs weren't _bad._ Roman had even shared his music with Virgil a couple of times and they were pretty good.

And he was so messy. Virgil was reminded of this as he opened the door, only to be greeted with a study table piled with scripts, textbooks and other miscellaneous objects, including 4 little potted plants. "Fucking Santos.” He muttered, dumping all of Roman’s stuff into a slightly neater pile so that he could eat. 

Where was the guy? He turned on his phone. The numbers “7:34” shone back at him. Shrugging, he clicked open Youtube, put on his headphones and started watching, chopsticks in hand. Shane and Ryan bickering about a goatman’s bridge started playing and he was soon absorbed into the video.

When Virgil finished his food and finished watching Youtube, he glanced at the time once more. “8.26”. Still no sign of Roman whatsoever. He could feel something tugging his stomach, twisting and turning it into various different shapes. It didn’t make sense. They had been living in the same room for two months and Roman was never this late to come back. _Still_ , a little voice in his head reasoned, _Roman was 18. He could take care of himself._

But what if he couldn’t? New York was a terribly shady place at times, especially at night. There could be thieves, or murderers or kidnappers, Roman could be in danger.

_Or he could not._ The voice retorted calmly. _Besides, what are you going to do about it? You aren’t such a tough guy yourself._

But he’d be the only one who saw him leave. He’d be the last person who saw him. He’d be- He’d be-

_Stop it._ The voice was stern. _Calm down, Virgil. If you really are worried, send him a text or something._

Virgil nodded slowly. Yeah, a text. That’d do it. He sent a casual “Where are you? It's getting late you know?” and stared at the little grey tick, silently wishing for it to multiply into two.

It didn't. Roman must be somewhere without WiFi. Or maybe his phone was off. Either way, Virgil should stop obsessing over what time Roman was coming back. Yes. Yes, he should stop. He had homework to do anyway. He put his phone face down on the table.

The door was very smooth, Virgil realised as he stared at it. It was dark, and made of wood, with a silver door knob at the side. He lifted up his phone and looked at the time once more. "8:32". What did he expect? Time would just magically fly by when he stared at a door? Of course not. He was being silly.

He pulled out his laptop. Time to start his essay. _The Rite of Spring is a piece written in the 20th Century by Igor Stravinsky. When first played, the -_

Virgil looked at the door, then the time. "8:34".

_When first played, the audience heckled as the piece was…_ He continued writing, the clickity clacks of the keyboard accompanying him through the night. 

Finally, he was done. He checked the time. "10:15". Still no sign of Roman. The message was still on that single grey tick, meaning Roman still hadn't even received the message yet. Should he call someone? Call Roman? His finger hovered over the call button. 

He let the finger fall to his side. No, it was silly. He shouldn't bug Roman. But still… 

He hit the button.

_Beep._ Was this a bad idea? What if Roman answered and said Virgil should stay out of his business?

_Beep._ But he was trying to help. And Roman wasn't a terrible person, he'd understand.

_Beep._ But - but phone calls were terrible in general. Why - why-

_Beep._ Why was he doing this?

_Beep._ Because…

_Beep._

Because…

_Beep._

Because Roman was his friend.

_Beep._

Yeah.

_Beep._ Roman was his _friend_. He really should stop entertaining the notion of more in his head.

_The person you are calling is not responding. Please try again later. Thank you. The person you are calling is not responding. Please try again later. Thank you. The person-_

Disappointedly, Virgil sighed and plugged Roman's charger into his phone. He had offered it once to Virgil and they slowly grew into the habit of using each other's possessions. 

Climbing into his bed, he hugged his knees close to his chest, staring at the door. Maybe if he stared hard enough, Roman would open the door.

10pm turned to 11pm and still no sign of Roman. He got out his headphones. He'd need them to take his mind off things.

12 am. Virgil had tried turning off the light and getting some sleep, but his wandering thoughts kept him awake, the "what if"s barraging his brain. 

1 am. Virgil got up, and turned on the light. He couldn't sleep. There wasn't any point. Turning on his phone to glance at his messages, he let out a sigh. The text still hadn't been received. Perhaps Youtube could keep him company. 

2:21 am. That's when the door creaked open, and Roman stumbled in with a yawn. Virgil almost fell off his bed.

"Virgil? You're still up?" Roman sounded tired.

Virgil stood up, concern etched onto his face. "Where were you, Roman? I-I texted you and called you and you didn't even get it."

"It - it doesn't matter." 

"It doesn't? Roman, it does. You have to have some sort of explanation."

"I said, it doesn't matter." Roman's voice was getting louder. "Lay off Virgil."

Virgil could feel his nails digging into his palm. "You didn't say _anything_ , Ro. You just - you just left. I thought…"

"You thought what, Virgil.” Roman glared at Virgil, making him flinch. “Why do you care so much anyway? It's not like - " He waved his hand around, trying to find the word. "it's not like we're friends or anything. You’re - well, you’re you and I’m me. We just put up with each other." The words came out harsh and they plunged into Virgil like a large jagged sword.

Virgil could feel tears welling up in his eyes, feel his hands trembling. He wished he couldn't feel. He wished he couldn't feel his heart slowly break.

"I cared," He started slowly, "because I thought we were friends. But I guess I shouldn't have been so naive."

Virgil slipped into bed quietly, and the tears welled up in his eyes now trickled onto the bed freely. They were warm. And for once, he didn't care. 

He officially had zero friends. 

***

"I made him _cry._ " Roman buried his head in his hands. " _Cry_. I am a terrible person."

Roman's two best friends from high school, Patton Charan and Logan Williams, were with him at the college cafeteria. They were polar opposites when it came to personality, but they matched extraordinarily well to the point where everyone in their level wanted them to start dating. And now, in college, they finally were.

Patton's bubbly, cheerful personality seeped into his looks, with his wide sparkling eyes that were framed with round wire rimmed glasses, and his bright smile that radiated happiness and friendliness. He constantly wore pastel polo T-shirts and blue jeans and was always filled with laughter and jokes.

Logan was a much more serious person who relied on logic and reason. With skin a few shades darker than Patton's medium brown and brown to blue hair that was tightly curled, Logan was the type of person who wore button up shirts on a daily basis. 

As they sat in front of Roman across the table, Roman noticed the two holding hands underneath the table. They were trying to be subtle, but the look in their eyes whenever they so much as glanced at each other was anything but that. 

"Well," Logan started first, his English accent obvious. He had transferred to their highschool from London, and his accent had stayed strong through the years. "I think it's debatable. But yeah, you are a pretty bad person."

Patton nodded solemnly. "Yeah. What were you even doing last night?"

"Ah, that." Roman hesitated. "It - It's nothing."

Patting Roman's hand, Patton gave him a comforting smile. "It's alright Roman, you don't need to tell us anything. But you're gonna have to come up with some sort of reason."

Roman nodded numbly. He knew what he had to do.

***

Roman heard Virgil before he saw him. The lilting melody that came out of the college's music studio was gentle and calm and one look into the room confirmed his suspicions. 

Virgil stood in front of a music stand, violin propped up and fingers dancing over the fingerboard in a way that rooted Roman to the spot, hand hovering over the door knob. His playing was hypnotising, to say the least. He seemed one with the music, the violin a mere extension of his body. 

The repetition of the one phrase played over and over, the dynamics and style experimented with and improved in every repeat. The tune sounded familiar, yet he couldn't place a name on it. It tugged on his heart, and the sound alone managed to make Roman's heart flutter.

Finally, when Virgil stopped his playing to take a sip of water, Roman pushed open the door. "Hey Virgil." Roman did a two fingered salute.

Virgil choked on his water. "WAH ZAN-" He coughed. "Ah, sorry. Jeezus Christ, you scared the living shit out of me. What do you want? I'm trying to practice."

"I wanted to - to apologise.”

Virgil sighed. “Okay, sure. Go for it. Why _did_ you stay out so late yesterday?"

"My - my abuelita," Roman looked down at his feet, voice quavering. "she slipped in the bathroom and she hit her head. I - I had to rush to the hospital. She's alright but I was so worried. Then when I got back, you started asking me so many questions, and - and I'm sorry for saying you aren't my friend, because obviously you are and I was just being stupid. And I really hope you forgive me, because I do care a lot about you and I don't want to lose you as a friend. And - and - now I’m rambling, I probably sound stupid, shit-”

Virgil placed a hand on Roman's. His fingers were coarse and long and slender, probably from all the violin playing. "I'm - I'm so sorry Roman. I shouldn't have pressured you so much. I was just really worried about you."

Roman smiled. "It's alright. I get it. Maybe we should just,” he waved his hand around his face vaguely, “start over? What do you say, Virgil, friends?"

Virgil held out his hand in a handshake. Roman resisted the urge to snicker. Virgil continued regardless. "Friends."

Roman took the hand in his. That felt nice.

***

"College sucks." Virgil declared as he stepped into the room, tossing his backpack onto his bed. The US lingo was sticking to him and besides, 'college' was much easier to say compared to 'university'. He looked over at Roman. "Shit dude, what happened to you?"

Roman had approximately 4 cups of coffee surrounding him. He was hunched over his laptop, typing furiously. "I have 5 essays due tomorrow, Virgil. I am fucked." 

"Well, if you drink another cup of coffee, your heart just might stop. Then you won't need to submit any of your essays.”

Roman paused his typing to give Virgil the finger, before burying his face in his hands. “Why on Earth did I choose to double-major Theatre _and_ Psychology? Was I suicidal?”   
  


Virgil sat on his bed, laptop open and one earbud out. “Nah, I think you were just stupid.” 

“You’re not helping.” Roman groaned, before he continued writing. For a while, the only thing Virgil heard was Brendon Urie’s godlike singing, with Roman’s typing and groans in the background. 

Finally, Virgil sighed. He was done. “Oh, 2am. Time to go to sleep before I end up passing out during lecture.” Shutting his laptop, he glanced over to the desk. “Hey, Ro. You awake?” The body slumped. 

“Guess not.” He mumbled. Inwardly, he couldn't help but wonder if he should do something about the sleeping boy. Caffeine crashes were rough and Virgil could still hear the groans Roman had given about cruel early 9 am lectures. 

Eh, it couldn't hurt to help. Walking over, he gingerly pushed Roman’s laptop out from under him, before saving his work and shutting the laptop down. Roman didn’t respond. 

He looked so different asleep, all the haughtiness and pride gone from his face. His cheek pressed against the desk and Virgil could see a small trail of drool tricking onto the table. Gross. Grabbing the many empty disposable cups, he tossed them in the trash can. He paused. 

Roman's eyelashes were really long. How had he never noticed? And his - his lips were a delicate shade of pink. They seemed to shine, as if Roman had taken the time to put on a layer of lip gloss. Knowing Roman, he probably had. The guy did enjoy makeup. Still… they looked so soft, so-

Nope. Nope. Nope. Virgil shook his head violently, before grabbing Roman’s duvet and wrapping it around the sleeping boy. There. Now he was comfortable. Virgil went back to bed, shoving Roman to the back of his head. Not that there was anything to think about, of course. There was nothing to think about. Nothing at all.

Roman woke up to Brendon Urie singing about closing the goddamn door, and almost laughed. “Thanks Virgil.” He murmured under his breath as he glanced over to him. “Thanks.”

***

So far, Virgil was having a terrible college experience. Not that he expected anything more. All the romance and sex and drugs and alcohol never really interested him in the first place. So, when Roman asked him to come with him to a party, Virgil had one word.

"No."

"Please, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance. I need to bring someone with me, and you're the only one available."

Virgil stuck an earbud in his ear. "I'm not available."

"It's a Friday night! What's there to be busy about?"

"I'm gonna be busy scrolling through Tumblr contemplating my place in the universe. Ya know, important stuff."

"Oh, don't be a party pooper J.D-Lightful. Besides, parties are part of the college experience. You gotta come!" Roman gave him a pleading look that Virgil could not say no too. 

And that's how Virgil ended up next to the buffet table, punch in hand and frown on his face. "It'd be fun, he said. College experience, he said." Virgil mumbled bitterly under his breath.

The music was loud, deafening even, the bass blasting. Coupled with people chatting loudly over the music, the footsteps and stomping on the floor and Virgil's own heart beat, Virgil was having a bit of a sensory overload. How he wished for a diagnosis...

He pulled his hoodie over his head and stood on tiptoes, eyeing the crowd of bodies writhing to the beat. Where was the idiot anyways? The last he'd seen of him was when he had four shots of tequila and wandered off into the crowd. 

There were different groups in the crowd, with one group dancing, one group playing beer pong and one group singing along to whatever pop song was blasting in a loud and obnoxious manner. He wandered over to the drunk singing group. From what he knew of Roman, that dork loved to sing. 

And he was right. As soon as he got there, he heard Roman’s voice, an obvious drunken slur to it. “Hi Virgil!” He hiccuped. “Hey guys! This is Virgil! My roommate!” Slinging an arm over Virgil’s shoulder, the stench of alcohol was so strong, Virgil wanted to gag. A guy in glasses and tightly curled dark brown to blue gradient hair looked embarrassed for Roman, and Virgil couldn’t really blame him.

“I - I’m sorry for him. He’s not usually like this. Of course, you know that, right Virgil?” The boy was nursing a red solo cup, and he spoke with a posh English accent. He wore a black button up dress shirt with dark jeans, and coupled with the aura of someone much older than all of them, stuck out from the rest of the group. 

He was hand in hand with a guy around their age, whose medium brown skin tone was a few shades lighter than the British boy’s and a red cord around his wrist. Virgil had seen them around the campus, laughing and teasing each other with what could only be described as pure affection in their eyes.

Roman laughed raucously, stumbling over to the boy and patting his back. “What - what are ya talking about Lo? I’m great. Just ask Patton. Ask Patton.”

“Yeah, he’s _not_ that great. We tried our best,” Patton had said immediately.

“Oh, okay. Roman, let's go back.” Virgil nodded to Patton and grabbed Roman by the wrist, dragging him out of the room. 

Roman looked at Virgil, laughed, and bopped him on the nose. “You’re cute, Virge. Did you know that? You’re cute. Do you think I’m cute?”

Virgil paused, and he could feel his face rushing with heat. Roman must be drunk out of his mind if he just blurted out such random statements. He heard a snicker in the background, in the cadence of Patton’s voice.

“Yeah, Roman, sure. You’re cute.” Virgil replied. It wasn't as if it was an outright lie. Roman was an attractive guy. He still looked good stumbling around and hiccuping.

Roman did a little jump and cheered. "You think I'm cute?" He hiccuped. "Virge thinks I'm cute!"

He paused his little dance and stumbled forward, before vomiting all over the floor outside their dorm room. Not for the first time that night, Virgil gagged. "Oh my god, Roman..." He murmured under his breath. 

"I'll clean this up later. Let's go inside." He grabbed Roman's wrist gently and led him into the dorm room. 

Roman stumbled into the room before pulling Virgil into a hug. “Virgil, you are such a good person.” He started to sob into Virgil’s shoulder. “I - I am so so lucky to have you as a friend.” Awkwardly, Virgil patted him on the back, trying to ignore the pungent mixture of alcohol and vomit in Roman’s breath.

"Right...Right back at ya Ro." Virgil tried to slowly disentangle himself from the hug, only for Roman to pull him in tighter.

Roman continued to sob. "No, really Virge. It's like, we don't get along all the time. But you mean a lot to me, ya know? Ya know?"

Virgil nodded slowly, as if it'd pacify Roman more that way. "Yep. I - I know." He gingerly shuffled out of the hug, grabbing a bottle of mineral water on the study table. "Here, Ro. Have a sip. You'll feel better." 

Uncapping the bottle, Virgil eased Roman onto his bed, before getting him to open his mouth so he could give Roman some water. He didn't trust him to do it by himself. Thankfully, Roman gulped the water down and Virgil took his vomit stained jacket off him. 

"Aw… thank you, Virge." Roman tilted his head and smiled, eyes crinkling in the corner and resembling a puppy. 

Right as Virgil was about to respond, Roman grabbed Virgil's hands, and pulled him beside him. "R-Roman?" Virgil sputtered out, flustered. 

Roman leaned close, till his nose was touching Virgil's. Virgil could feel Roman's breath on his face, the scent of alcohol still lingering over him. Pausing right in front of him, the corners of Roman's lips pulled into an almost genuine looking smile, as if the boy wasn't drunk.

That was what caught Virgil off guard. That's what made Virgil's face heat up, the pink dusting his cheeks and his heart beating loudly. Roman was so close. What - what was this feeling? He couldn't understand, he didn't understand. He-

Roman's lips brushed Virgil's cheek. It didn't last long, a couple seconds at most. However, the contact alone was enough to spur adrenaline to churn through his veins. It was a spark, so bright and sudden, so _addictive._ Virgil gave a little yelp. 

Roman, he was Roman! He was drunk. That was all. Some people just got a bit more...affectionate, when they were drunk. That was the only reason behind it. It didn’t mean anything.

Besides, it'd be immoral to kiss back. Roman was drunk, he never wanted to take advantage of him like that. He'd probably end up regretting everything the next day. He should do something else. The - the vomit puddle outside! Yes, yes. He should clean that up before his RA showed up.

And with that thought, Virgil turned to the confused Roman. "Don't forget to drink water." was the last thing Virgil said before rushing out the dorm room to find something to clean up the vomit puddle Roman had left on the floor.

When he finally got the mop, he furiously scrubbed the floor. "No more Roman." He muttered under his breath. "Just clean. Just clean."

Still, Virgil couldn’t help putting a hand up on his cheek lightly, before a smile grew on his face.

***

Roman never liked hangovers. So when he woke up on Saturday with a massive one, his head pounding in pain, Roman groaned.

"Virgil." Roman turned to face the other's bed. "How drunk was I last night?"

Virgil looked up from his phone, and a light pink tinted his cheeks. He looked - he looked cute. Yeah, that was the word. His fluffy purple hair was messy and hung over his brown eyes. In an oversized sweater and sweatpants, cute was the exact word to describe him.

Even looking at the sweater made Roman want to laugh. Virgil had once complained how the US was much much cooler than Singapore, causing Roman to throw an abnormally black sweater at him. (Who would have thought Roman even owned the colour?) Virgil had just kept it. And Roman had let him.

But, why was he blushing? Dozens of drunken actions ran through his mind. Did he strip and dance on the buffet table? Did he kiss a girl? Forget the words to a Disney song? Make a clown out of himself in general?

"Very." That one word confirmed all his fears, and he pulled the blanket over his head, groaning once more.

His head hurt so bad, and the light that illuminated the room was far too intense for his poor innocent eyes. 

"Did...Did I do anything stupid?"

"Well you vomited all over the corridor and your jacket has little vomit splatters all over it, so that's fun."

Roman groaned, and plopped a pillow over his eyes. If it couldn't block out the light, at least it'd block out the shame.

***

Rain was a funny thing. Little water droplets could gently caress your skin, making you feel all nice and cool. Or the sky could just dump a bucket of water on your head, ruining your hair and flooding the street. 

That day, it was one of the more _unpredictable_ weather days. When he and Virgil stepped out of college campus that afternoon, the sun was shining brightly, blasting its incessant beam on everyone. Roman had taken off his letterman jacket, opting to tie it around his waist. Virgil, on the other hand, had declared the warmer weather nothing, staying in his purple hoodie.

"Where are we going, Ro?" Virgil asked, his fluffy purple hair hanging over his eyes. 

"Well Virgil," Roman threw his arm around his shoulder casually, before wondering if it was too touchy. Virgil didn't flinch or move away, so he figured it was fine. "You've never truly explored the great New York City. So as a resident New Yorker, I'm gonna show you all the good shit around here."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "So Times Square and the Statue of Liberty?"

Roman let out a fake gasp. "You _really_ think I'd drag you to all those tourist traps? Do you not have any faith in me?"

"Never had, never will." Virgil laughed.

Roman huffed dramatically. "Anyways, I was thinking we have lunch, then take a walk in Central Park. What do you wanna eat? Chinese? Indian? Thai?"

"Oh don't get me started about Chinese food in the US." Virgil started gesticulating. "What is a fortune cookie? I have never had one in my life, and I am _very_ Chinese. Who came up with it? Is it even hygienic to have a little slip of paper in your cookies? And why's everything fried? Does steaming not exist here?"

Roman laughed. "So, no Chinese? Tell you what, there's a great Thai place over at 1st Avenue. I bet you'll love it."

***

As Roman chewed on his khao pad, he couldn't help but think how nice Virgil looked in the amber glow of the Thai restaurant. 

He liked Virgil's laugh, one so filled with joy and happiness. He liked his determination, how he always put his everything into whatever he did. He liked the eyeliner Virgil claimed he didn't care about, when in reality he spent half an hour perfecting it. He liked his sarcasm, one so dry and witty that every retort he made made Roman want to burst out laughing. He liked - he liked Virgil.

"I - I like you, Virgil." Roman blurted out. "I mean, not like friendship like, but more than friends like, you know?" 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Where did that come from? What was Virgil going to say? He looked taken aback, and Roman doubted he expected those words to escape his lips. Then again, neither did Roman. Vigil looked down at his plate of pad thai, chopsticks hovering between the plate and his mouth. He then looked back at Roman, placing the chopsticks and noodles attached to it down. 

“You...you like me?” The words came out shaky and uncertain and slightly disbelieving, as if no one had ever uttered those words in Virgil’s direction before.

Roman could feel his cheeks heating up. “Of course, Virgil. You’re the most amazing person I've ever met." 

Whether that was too much or not, Roman wasn't sure. The light pink that dusted Virgil’s face told him otherwise. “I like you too, Roman. More than friends.” 

A smile grew on Roman’s face, his eyes lighting up. "So - so is this now a date?"

Virgil laughed. "Of course, ya dingus."

***

Central Park was as gorgeous as the several other times Roman had visited from young. Walking side by side with Virgil, he slipped his hand into Virgil's. It felt right. As they walked side by side, Virgil's presence beside him was warm and comforting. 

The sky was now cloudy and grey, and the air was cool. Roman had slipped back into his letterman jacket and he couldn't help gazing at Virgil.

Virgil had a sparkle in his eyes, and whenever he saw something interesting, he'd bounce on the balls of his feet and point at it, tugging Roman's hand excitedly. The corners of his lips tugged into a smile often and his low voice was melodious, hypnotising and musical.

It started drizzling, little drops of water landing on Roman and Virgil. "Oh!" Virgil looked up and let go of Roman's hand to test the air. "It's raining!" His eyes lit up and he pulled down his hood.

The rain was gradually getting heavier but the pair didn't seem to mind. Roman laughed and did a little dance on the spot, mimicking singing in the rain.

Virgil's smile widened and he _attempted_ a pirouette. Instead, he slipped, and fell right into Roman's arms. Roman could feel his cheeks heating up. 

Roman could see the little water droplets on Virgil's eye lashes. They framed his dark brown eyes, and as Virgil looked up at Roman and blinked, Roman swore he could feel the butterflies in his stomach fluttering. 

Gripping the hem of Roman's shirt, Virgil stepped even closer to him. A light pink tinted his cheeks. "Kiss me?" He said, just loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain.

Roman had a hand on Virgil's back and he used the other to gently brush his damp hair out of his face. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Virgil's softly. He could smell the mix of rain and lavender, and he felt giddy. Virgil had his arms around Roman's neck and was kissing him back. Virgil - Virgil was kissing him back. 

The rain beat down onto them, the pair sopping with water. Roman didn't care, and Virgil didn't seem to care either as he deepened the kiss, pulling Roman closer.

Roman's knees went weak and the butterflies in his stomach swirled around, making little loops. Finally, after what seemed like eternity but had only been a few minutes, they pulled away. Roman could feel the dopey grin on his face, and seeing the almost shy one on Virgil's, wanted to laugh.

"Virgil Teo." He said, staring into his eyes, utterly starstruck. "I think you stole my heart."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! This was a super self indulgent fic I wrote and it was really fun to write :D


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